A Game of Hearts and Heists (Girl Games, #1)

by Ruby Roe

Quinn, piece by piece, is ruining my life, stealing my clients and fucking with my mind. And every time I get the opportunity to kill her… I don’t. I stall. We end up fucking. If I can’t kill her… maybe I could mess with her instead.

I step back and fold my arms, watching as she fusses. Her irritation is enough to get me hot.

She eyes me, her lids narrowing as she looks me up and down. Hunter. Prey. This is my favourite game. If only it would end in the bedroom permanently instead of where it’s going to lead her eventually: the mortuary.

“Well, this was delightful.” Scarlett stares at me, holds my gaze, probing. The fuck is she up to? I narrow my eyes at her, which only makes her smile harder. “For an Assassin wannabe, you’re rather attractive when you’re angry.” “Well, you’re more attractive when I can’t see you.” She laughs and pulls open the door. “It was a pleasure, Poisoner.” “Go fuck yourself, Assassin,” I spit. But the door slams and I can hear her laughing as she disappears down the street. Scarlett Grey.

You don’t steal from me, and you definitely don’t steal my journal. This isn’t a game anymore. It’s fucking murder. There are two things I hate: playing games and Scarlett fucking Grey.

“If it weren’t for the fact I know you’re holding some kind of weapon to my thigh, I’d be highly aroused right now.”

She doesn’t even realise how powerful she is when she’s angry. Magic billows out of her when she’s cross. It’s intoxicating, the heady scent of spice and burnt summers. My heart rate increases, the thudding a constant urge to take her, own her, devour her.

If going in alone is really as much of a risk as the soldier made out, then there’s no way I’m putting Stirling in jeopardy for the sake of my pride. I don’t give a shit about me. I won’t put my sister in harm’s way for the sake of our legacies.

“Then I guess we can come up with another kind of deal.” She drops her eyes and smiles. What does… Is she suggesting… “You know, something like agreeing trade areas, given you’re screwing my business into the ground,” she says. “Right. Yes, of course. That’s what I thought you meant.” Lies. It was entirely not what I thought she meant. I need to take a cold shower. Clearly pleasuring myself earlier was insufficient.

LOL

“Till then,” I say. Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in my apothecary wondering if I really have hold of this or if she was winning all along.

“Tell me you need me,” I say. Her gaze darkens, a twisted smile curving the corner of her mouth. “Beg.” It’s a demand.

“I have to end her. Forget trying to screw her business. I’ll kill her instead. No one gets this much power over me,”

A flicker of irritation passes through me, that I’m not the one making her pant. I suppress it. Stupid thought. She’s wearing jeans that hug her curvy hips and a tiny crop top. A slip of flesh showing between her belly button and waist. I swallow. “And you don’t like her?” Stirling says, shaking her judgmental head. “Put your cock away and stop drooling.”

They’d spent their whole lives with everything handed to them on a plate. I can’t imagine the culture shock of having it stripped away.

She’ll probably work me to death or something horrific. As if she can read my mind, she says, “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow…” She leans close to my ear, so close her breath trickles down my neck. It’s warm against the chill of brewing rain in the air. “I only like to break you in the bedroom.” I swallow down the images of Scarlett between my thighs, sat on my face. Her naked flesh.

“You’re safe with me.” I can only see her eyes through the gap in her visor. They’re pale, but this afternoon they sparkle. I haven’t seen her this excited before. I like it. It changes her whole face. Makes her warm instead of full of ice. “I promise,” she says. I can’t see her mouth moving, but her expression tells me everything.

“That was… I didn’t want to go on the bike,” I say, trying to add acid in my voice. She holds my gaze, the intensity between us infinite, consuming. “Yes, you did.” Yeah, I did. “I didn’t want to be driven at speeds like that.” “Yes, you did.” “You don’t know me, Scarlett.” She brushes a stray lock of curl away from my cheek. Such an intimate, soft movement. All the while, her eyes never leave mine. “Yeah, Quinn, I do.” “It was… it was incredible. Like you promised.” Her mouth twitches, a whisper of a smile. And I realise she used my name. She’s never used my name.

She is a constant pain in my arse.” “And yet you kiss her like she’s oxygen. Like she’s your everything.”

Love? Is she right? Of course I don’t love Quinn. Do I? The more I think about it, the more I wonder how different love and hate really are.

she's using her name nowwwww :))

No one hurts Quinn. The thought hauls me to my senses. I was literally about to slaughter the carriage driver for almost injuring her. No one hurts Quinn. I won’t let them. And that is the most surprising thought I’ve had… ever.

I fire a glare at Quinn, who is quietly shivering on the side of the road. Oh, Gods. I shuck off my jacket and hand it to her. “Stop shivering, it’s pathetic.” A single wrinkle forms between her brows. She scans my face as if she’s trying to figure something out. “You taking it or not?” She nods and slips it over her arms and instantly stops shivering. I double take. She’s wearing my jacket. I mean, of course she is, I just gave it to her. But as I stare at her, something shifts inside me. I enjoy seeing it on her. And not because it’s tight and pushes her tits together. But because of how it makes me feel. Seeing her wear a piece of me, as if she is mine. As if we belong, and I really don’t know how I feel about that.

“Quinn,” she says, her face brightening. And the wider she smiles, the tighter I grip my fists. Jacob slides an arm around my shoulder, as if he can sense what’s brewing inside me. “Long time.” Remy leans in and kisses Quinn on her cheek, the other one, then on her lips. My whole body lurches forward, but Jacob grabs my hand and holds me in place. “It’s good to see you, Quinn,” Remy says, still smiling. “You too, Rem.” Rem? Fucking Rem. Stirling glances at Remy and Quinn and then at me. She flusters and promptly shoves her way between them, separating them.

“Lesbians are good at mess, though.” Scarlett smiles. “Then perhaps there’s hope for them yet.” “And for us, too.” I don’t mean to say it. It just comes out. Heat rushes up my collar and into my cheeks. Scarlett releases me, a bitter rush of air sucked between us. She tilts her head, and her fingers meet my chin, lifting it up. There’s a softness in her expression I’ve never seen before. Her features smooth, lips part. It’s the first time she’s looked at me as though she wants to kiss me instead of kill me. My heart thuds a hesitant thrum against my ribs as our eyes meet. She holds me in her gaze like old souls and precious memories. As if nothing else exists but me. The way she stares at me steals my breath and slows time. She inches down, her lips moving closer to mine. She smells like strength, like leather and steel and the safety of home.

I can’t pretend to woo her because I actually want to win her as much as I want vengeance. How can I have both? Because when I imagine bringing her body close to mine and slipping the blade between her ribs to nick her arteries… When I picture the light fading from her eyes forever, I can’t breathe. My chest tightens and my lungs cinch. I have to physically bend forward and clasp my knees. I wipe the thoughts away, a haze of confusion filling my mind. And I’m left with one horrifying prospect. If I’m not going to kill Quinn, what the hell am I going to do about my business?